Her Thieving Heart
by Liave Ekeli
Summary: There was a woman once, for whom Cutler Beckett would have done anything. This is the story of her, the way he sometimes whisper it to the darkness, and of what happened when he learned once and for all that there is no such thing as eternal bliss.


**Disclaimer:** The _Pirates of the Caribbean _franchise is the property of Walt Disney Pictures, Jerry Bruckheimer Films, First Mate Productions Inc. and any and all other copyright holders. No profit is being made from this story and no copyright infringement is in any way intended. The only character of my creation in this story is that of Francesca Griffin.  
**Author's Notes: **This story was inspired of a review I received on my other PotC fic, _The Red Lady_. I'd love feedback, and any reviews are very much appreciated. Hope you enjoy!

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Her name was Francesca Griffin. Her name still tastes so sweet on the rare occasion that I let it slip off my tongue when I am alone. She was the daughter of Lord Edward Griffin, a man who had made his wealth with the East India Trading Company in its early years. Her mother was a Frenchwoman whose name I cannot recall, but who undoubtedly passed her beauty on to her daughter.

I remember the first time I saw Francesca Griffin. It was during one of the countless balls I was expected to attend as an up and coming member of the Trading Company. These gatherings are often insufferably boring, and mostly consist of the men walking around like prancing peacocks, congratulating each other on all they believe to have accomplished, the women tactfully taking their place in the shadow of their husbands and guardians. It was in one of these mindless gatherings that my eyes first found Francesca. Even now, even when ten years have passed, I can still picture her clearly to my inner eye. I remember her hair, fiery red and swept elegantly away from her face, diamonds and emeralds adorning it. I remember the dress she was wearing, it was the same dark green colour as the emeralds in her hair, and made of Chinese silk. And I remember that the moment I saw how that dress enveloped her and how the jewels sparkled in her hair, I decided that I must have her, at any cost.

After that she became my secret obsession. It was as if everything I did was because of her, everything became a part of my elaborate plan for having her. I worked more vigorously for the Company than I had ever done, became more ambitious than I had been, and slowly but surely I was awarded. I rose through the ranks of the Company, and that in turn brought me closer and closer to Edward Griffin, and his family. And with every step, I came closer to obtaining my goal of the angel with the glowing red hair, the flawless ivory skin and the deep green eyes.

As my friendship with Lord Griffin grew closer, I became a more and more frequent guest in their house. I saw that behind the tactful modesty that was required of a woman in her position there lay a keen wit, a clever mind, and at times, a rather sharp tongue. Those qualities only added to my obsession, and I admit it now, I fell so deeply in love with that woman, so deep that I had no idea that my heart was capable of such feelings. She was always in my thoughts, her smile, the sparkle in her eyes…I was obsessed, and I will admit that too now. It was the greatest mistake I have ever made.

After almost a year of silent courtship I went to her father and asked for her hand in marriage. He willingly agreed, but quietly suggested that I should ask Francesca, and that, being a sensible woman, she would accept my proposal, seeing how it would benefit us both.

I did so, stumbling over the words like an idiot as I spoke, but she listened silently and let me finish. Then she let silence fall for a moment, carefully measuring her words before she spoke. She accepted, which only proved to me that she was the intelligent, sensible woman I thought, that she was everything I hoped she would be.

For the next few months it was as if my heart floated in the clouds. I did not know what good I could do to please her, every little smile, and every glance she sent me was payment good enough. Money was no longer an object, and definitely not so when it came to our wedding. I wanted everything to be perfect on the day when the woman of my dreams finally was to become my wife in the flesh.

I thought she seemed a bit distant at times, her glance sometimes resting a bit too long on the setting sun, or on the horizon, but I wrote it off as being her modesty, and frankly I thought it attractive that she seemed out of reach sometimes. It spurred me on, making me even more attentive and wanting of her affections. It was only later that I would realise the true reason for her distance.

I should have known, of course, that such happiness was too good to be true and lasting. But for the longest time I floated around in complete bliss, nothing vexed me like it had done, for she was in my thoughts whenever I needed her. The night that changed I shall never forget, for as long as I live.

It was on the eve before our wedding was finally to be. I was on my way to her rooms; I assure you that my intentions were quite honourable, all I wished to steal were glances, to see her, to feel the intoxicating scent of her, to imagine what her skin would feel like under my fingertips, to feel the satisfaction of knowing that soon she was to be mine. I reached her quarters, and was surprised to find her door slightly ajar. What was even more surprising was the sound of hushed voices coming from inside. Francesca did indeed have a certain distance about her, but she was not one to talk to herself. What else, the other voice sounded like a man's.

Surprised does not begin to describe how I felt then, I was shocked, and stood for a moment as if frozen, listening to the two voices.

"…Then come with me! Come with me, away from this place! I love you, come with me…Darling Francesca, come with me."

The sound of another man's voice speaking her name drove me into a burning rage. How dare he, whoever he was?! She was mine! Mine, and mine alone! Furious I stormed through the door, ready to throw myself at whomever was in there with my soon to be wife, but the sight that met me made me stop.

There was my fiancée, my beautiful Francesca, standing in the embrace of one of my own captains. He was an arrogant and stubborn man, but had done me some favours in times past. But I had planned to let him go ever since he refused to transport some cargo from Africa to the Caribbean. Now he had sealed his own fate.

Her eyes widened with fear as she looked at me, and at that moment it was as if my heart stopped beating. I do not know if it was the fact that she now feared me, or the fact that she had betrayed me. In all probability it was a mixture of both. Now as I looked at the two of them together, I understood her distance. She was indeed an intelligent woman, and had seen me as security, her path to a future in luxury and ease, but not in love. The moment I understood the truth, the moment I realised that my happiness was over, I cursed her.

I have tried for over a decade now, to forget what happened, what I did next. But I cannot forget. I cannot forget how in that moment, rage blinded me completely, and I lunged forward. I cannot remember drawing my blade, but in an instant I had it in my hand. I aimed straight for his thieving heart; I wanted to pierce the heart of the man who in one single moment had stolen my happiness away from me. I did not see her. In that moment I saw nothing, and when I came to myself I saw to my horror that in my rage I had instead pierced the heart of my cursed angel.

Time seemed to stop, or at least run a hundred times slower than normal. I saw her eyes close, and her body fall backwards, arms outstretched as if she was trying to shield him who stood behind her. It was as if my feet were made of lead, and I could not move, even though I wanted to run forward, catch her, save her, beg her to forgive me.

He caught her, and placed her carefully on the floor, kneeling beside her. And in his dark eyes I saw fury, the same fury that had overtaken me moments before, but then it disappeared as he looked down on her, and tears flooded his eyes.

She truly looked like an angel, lying there. Apart from the crimson red that surrounded my blade, it looked like she was just sleeping. Her eyes were closed, her face expressionless and pale.

For two days I watched over her body. I had told her family that she was killed by a pirate breaking into our home, and that I had tried to fight him, but he had taken my sword, and that she had been killed trying to shield me. I could not let one fatal mistake in a rush of anger destroy all that I had worked for over several years.

For hours I sat watching her pale face, and several times I was struck by how peaceful she looked. Her red hair still the same, her skin still flawless…but never again would she open those eyes and look at me through those emeralds that God had seen fit to set in her eyes.

The thief and traitor was branded and sentenced to death for piracy, but somehow managed to escape. His name has spread across the seven seas, and now all men of the Company and Crown have leave to bring him to justice. I am justice. I wish to look that man in the eyes who stole the heart of the only woman I have ever loved. Who took from me without effort the only thing I have ever wanted.

I want to look into Jack Sparrow's eyes as I watch him hang.


End file.
